


The Ghost and Mr. Nygma

by Talc



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Arkham Asylum, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Murder Family, Haunted House, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Serial Killers, enigma is named ellie, riddler is a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talc/pseuds/Talc
Summary: Against all warnings and judgement, Edward Nygma rents out a seaside cottage known to the locals as Crow Cottage and moves his young daughter there with him. Unfortunately, the original owner of the building is still around, even though he's been dead for over a hundred years, and he does not want company.A wacky romantic comedy.





	1. Crow Cottage

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a book/movie/tv series called The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. All three are good, though my favourite is the television show, the chemistry with the actors are amazing. Obviously, because this is scriddler, this story is gonna be a little darker than the charming love story was. A lot of black comedy...Don't worry about it. 
> 
> For the purpose of storytelling, Enigma's name is Elisabeth (Ellie for short). I don't actually know a lot about her character...because no one really does, but like whatever live life to the fullest, read my fic.

  
  
The morning light is still peaking up over the horizon as the car peaks the top of the rickety dirt road. The water of the bay crashes against the coast, combining with thick, and heavy wind that rattles the metal of the vehicle as they slow to a stop. “And here we are.” Edward pulls his car up in front of their new…Well, home is being generous. They’re parked right next to a broken garden gate, connected to a heavily broken and mossed stone wall that runs around the yard. As Edward offers his daughter his hand in getting out of the car, he examines the decrepit building.

Truly, the building was something of a wreck. Rundown and overgrown, with knotted and gnarled trees blocking the windows and a collection of broken boards. Not a place to raise a child by any means… But beneath the overgrown vines and the wind-beaten wood is a charming cottage. Perfectly isolated from the world. “Mr. Nygma?”

A large man approaches from the road, dressed in work-clothes and looking mighty annoyed to be up on this hill so early in the day.

“That is me, yes.”

“Name’s Cash. I’ve been in charge of watching Crow Cottage for a few years now. Here to give you the keys.” Cash holds out a hand to shake and it’s a great moment to suddenly realise the man’s left hand is missing and replaced with a hook. Edward keeps his thoughts to himself as he shakes the man’s remaining hand.

“You’ve not exactly been taking care of this place, have you?” He quips. “And where’s the fellow I bought the place from?”

“Strange doesn’t come near the place if he can help it. As for the upkeep; I’ve done the best I can with what he lets me do. Mostly I’ve just been making sure no one breaks into the place.” Cash gestures vaguely to the building. “It ain’t really my job to take care of it, just to show up once a day and make sure it’s still standing.

“Well…It’ll do. Ellie, dear, grab your bag we’ll look around first.” Edward gestures to his young daughter, who nods and grabs her backpack form the front seat.

“…You sure you really want to live here?” Cash asks, side eyeing the little girl whilst keeping his gaze on Edward. “Specially with a little kid like that?”

“Certainly.” Edward grabs his own bag and closes up the car.

“Isn’t it a bit…Secluded?”

“The solace will do us some good.”

“And a place so broken down?”

“Nothing a few nails can’t fix.”

“…Well if you’re so quick to your grave, who am I to stop you?” Cash shrugs and passes over the keys. “You get a problem, though, you don’t come running to me.” He swiftly strolls past them and enters the house himself, leaving the two behind.  

“…That was odd.” Edward admits.

“I don’t like him.” Ellie declares candidly.

“Neither do I…” He stares at the door of the house for a moment longer before putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Come, dear, let us look at our new home.”

They enter around the broken gate, stepping over a large wooden post because the gate itself is slanted towards the earth. Across a ruined stone path, they step onto the porch and let themselves in.

The inside is quite nice. Dusty and cobwebbed, of course, but the wood is finished and the interior is grand.

“I like it.” Ellie announces.

“Rooms are up here!” Cash calls from upstairs, followed by some annoyed muttering that sounds like a slew of insults. As they reach the top of surprisingly sturdy stairs, Cash dictates where everything is. “Bedrooms; 1, 2, 3. And the bath is down the hall. That panel leads up to the attic, but I wouldn’t suggest heading there.”

“I’m going to find my room.” Elisabeth doesn’t wait for a response, suddenly opening up each of the bedroom doors and going into each of them.

“This one the master?” Edward asks, locating the more ornate of the three bedroom doors.

“I’d stay out of that one if I was you. It was his.” Cash says, but Edward has already opened the door and stepped inside.

It’s…Nice, actually. There’s a queen sized bed, large and already with a mattress. The floors are glossy and dark, and the room is full of windows that overlook the sea. Edward steps through the dark to stand at the four paneled glass, looking out at the shore and the overgrown garden above it. There’s a spyglass set up at the window, looking out over the water. Edward tries to move it, but finds its rotation locked. “What is this?”

“Don’t do that.” Cash states, but Edward is already looking through the spyglass. In the middle of its view, on a far away island, is a building surrounded by thick walls. A chill runs up his spine, unnatural and hardly from the weather. “Why is he…” Cash steps forward to the spyglass and places his single hand on the metal. “That doe-FUCK!” There’s a hiss like searing steak and all of a sudden Cash is yanking his hand away, a vicious burn on his palm. “Lousy little…”

Edward has already moved on to the other side of the room, not seeming to notice or care that his tourguide was just burned by stationary metal on an almost sunless day.

“This’ll do.” He declares, glancing towards a desk set up in the middle of the room. It’s oddly tidy, without a spec of dust on it or even a single spiderweb. Settled on the top right corner is a dark figure of a bird, most likely a raven judging by the size. It’s made of a black and smooth rock, well polished and glinting in the light from the window. “Seems well taken care of…” He muses. “Unlike the rest of the house…The furnishings come with the house, yes?”

“Technically.” Cash’s voice is farther away, standing in the hallway at the bannister like he’s giving the room space. “Best not to move anything though…Or live here. You sure you want to live here?”

“I already paid the lease, it’s not like we’re backing out now.” Edward exits the room, not seeming to notice how drafty it is despite the fact that all the windows are shut tight. “I was told it has a library?”

Cash grunts and leads Edward back downstairs and through the sitting room, to a dark alcove by a reading nook. There’s another desk set up here, surrounded by full bookshelves and hidden from the light by thick curtains.

Edward breaths in slowly, taking in the smell of the old books as he idly runs a finger among the shelves.

“…How long ago has it been since someone lived here?” He asks, voice quiet and reverent as if he doesn’t want to shatter the books with his volume, or burn them with his breath.

“Somethin like a hundred years since someone lived here more than a week.” Cash stays out of this area, too, lingering in the sitting room. “No one lasts long. Not since…Well, not since him.” He gesture’s a painting above the fireplace in the sitting room, which Edward is immediately drawn to.

It’s an oil painting of a man with a beaky nose and pale skin. Though dressed respectfully in suit, labcoat and spectacles, he looks sour and intimidating, piercing blue eyes seeming to stare right into the viewer of the painting. Below it reads a plaque with “Dr. Jonathan Crane” on it, along with a set of years. It certainly _had_ been a long time since anyone has really lived here.

“He worked at the asylum off the town bay. Head doctor or something. People got a lot of things to say about that place, specially since he died.” The room chills, though only Cash seems to notice, scowling at the air.

Edward thinks about the building he saw through the spyglass. “How’d he die?”

“Suicide, supposedly. Found him hanging in his room. He’d been dead for a week before anyone thought to check. Took rather badly to that.”

“Why would he kill himself?”

“Those asylums were fucked up places. They used to drill holes into people’s skulls, and shock them into submission. Witnessing that would drive anyone mad, I reckon. Though, perhaps, he was just saving someone the trouble of assassinating his boney ass.”

Edward fixates his gaze on the eyes of the portrait. They’re so bright, even from behind the thick spectacles. “…He certainly was a frightening man.” Edward comments.

“To him that’s a compliment.” Cash mutters. The air goes silent and still, and for a moment the two men simply stand in front of the portrait, examining the visage of Dr. Crane.

“I found my room!” Ellie announces, suddenly shouldering her way next to Edward. For his credit, he does not jump. Cash flinches, though, and draws back.  

“Well that’s good. Say Elisabeth, how do you feel about this man?” Edward gestures to the painting. “This used to be his home.”

“I think he looks awful scary. And he doesn’t want us to be here.” Ellie states this as fact, nodding her head solemnly.

“And what would make you say that?”

“He told me.”

Edward frowns.

From the walls haunts a distant noise, like a deep laughter. It reverberates off the walls and flows around the room.

“What is that?” Edward asks.

“My cue to leave.” Cash has already started to make his way towards the door, halfway out the room and taking quick strides to exit. Edward follows after, watching as the man trips on nothing and barely catches himself, sneering as he flings the door open and steps out. “When you move out just leave the keys on the porch. No one will care.” The gruff man calls out, not even turning to look at Edward as he slams the door shut and disappears down the lane.

“Things won’t ever be dull here, will they?” Ellie asks, finding her place at Edward’s side.

“Certainly not.”

* * *

 

Moving into the house proves to be a laborious process, especially for a fairly weak man and his young daughter. Many times they move something in only to find it back out in the car again, waiting for them to bring it back.

Still, Ellie has little trouble setting up her room, and things seem to quiet down after Edward brings in his boxes of texts, which he settles in the master bedroom. All seems to go well, even, until night falls and they turn on the lights.

Edward is in the kitchen, fighting with the gas stove as he tries to make dinner when Ellie walks in. “He doesn’t like electric lighting.” She states matter of factly.

“Who?” Edward does not look up from the stove, focusing on not burning their food with the temperamental flames.

“Dr. Crane. He hates it.” Ellie takes a seat at the kitchen table, dragging her stuffed rabbit along with her.

“Well, he’ll just have to deal.”

And that’s when the power goes out.

They spend the rest of the night lit by candles, not able to find the fuse box or sort out the electrics. Edward promises to call Mr. Strange in the morning to sort things out as he tucks Ellie in.

“Goodnight, Elisabeth.”

“Goodnight dad.” He blows out the candle and exits the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “Goodnight Dr. Crane.” Ellie says softly to the dark.

Edward leaves for his new room, bringing his own candle and using it to light the many candelabras that fill the space. In the dim light, the room looks almost macabre. He had cleaned up the space; given it sheets and such, but it still had an air to it that seemed almost…Heavy. Like something was clinging to its very being.

“Alright,” Edward declares to the dark, “Come on out now. Say your piece.”

No one answers.

“Don’t be a coward, I already know you’re here.”

There’s a swift and freezing wind that travels across the room, sweeping through Edward and rattling his frame. Suddenly, something grabs a hold of his shoulders, digs fingers into the muscle there and pushes with all its might, causing Edward to stumble into the desk.

“I am not a coward.” A voice declares with a hiss.

Edward grunts, slamming his hands down on the desk to keep himself stable. Slowly, he turns into the dark, peering through the light of the flickering candles. And there he stands.

“Dr. Crane, I presume?”

“That is I. You are trespassing.”

Dr. Crane looks very much like his portrait. He ahs the same sharp face, and piercing eyes, though his hair is longer now as opposed to the clean cut it used to have. The painting must have been him young, for his visage is older and tired and scowling.

“Impossible to trespass on your own property; I leased the cottage out.” Edward quips.

“Get out.” The good doctor declares through gritted teeth. A storm is brewing in the distance; rumbling thunder and deep, dark clouds that can even be seen in the pale moonlight.

“I don’t think I will.” Edward stands his ground.

“GET OUT!” Crane shouts, diving forward at Edward. When his hands dart out and grip Edward’s shoulder again they are freezing cold. So cold that they feel hot and burning through his clothes right down to his skin.

“Don’t shout.” Edward grits out, pushing his own hands against the ghost’s chest and surprisingly finding himself able to push the doctor off him. “If you wake my daughter I will surely not be courteous.”

“She cannot hear me, only you.” Dr. Crane hisses. “I choose who knows I’m here.”

“You spoke to her earlier.” Edward states, huffing as he brushes down his clothing. “Don’t do that, by the way. I don’t need you influencing her.”

“You know, there is an excellent way to ensure I follow that rule.” Crane says with false sincerity. “Get out of my damn house!” His words are followed by another distant crash of thunder.

“It is not your house. We rented it. We paid for it.”

“That does not change the fact that this is my home.”

“You’ve been dead for a hundred years, I think your time is up.”

“How dare you--“ Crane seems to be gearing up to attack again.

Edward quickly raises hands to pacify him. “Hush, we’re not going to kick you out or anything. I can see that you loved this home very much. Cohabitation cannot be too painful, now can it?”

“It can, and you will leave.”

“We can’t, and we won’t. Spent our whole savings on this place, and I refuse to put us out on the street. Now we can cooperate together or I can find everything you love about this building and tear it down.” Edward matches the doctor’s steely glare with one of his own, letting his voice go harsh. “We’re your best bet, anyways. I doubt this place will be left standing much longer. They’ll mow it down one day, if you’re not careful. And then what will happen to you?” He smirks.

“The dolt who owns the land now would never allow it. As idiotic and twisted as he is, Strange has some sort of interest in my property.”

“More reason to cooperate with me. I’ll help you find out what Strange wants, maybe buy the property off of him when I get my funds up. You can be left alone, as long as you leave us alone.”

Crane goes silent. The two stare at each other for a good while, maintaining eye contact; green to blue. Glare to glare.

“Fine.” Crane declares. The storm in the distance settles, and Edward smirks. “On a trial basis!” Crane adds before Edward gets any ideas. “I don’t want anything in this house ruined, yes? Stay away from my things, don’t change anything. And stay out of my room.”

“Oh no, I am keeping this room.” There are some things Edward won’t back down on. “We can share it if you wish, but this will be my bedroom for the duration of our stay. We’ll compromise on your terms, only because I feel like this house will need some help, even if you don’t think so.” Edward crosses over to a candle across the room and begins to blow out the various lights. “And I don’t want you talking to Ellie.”

Crane does not answer, only stares at Edward. He can feel himself being scrutinized right down to the bone. He’s being taken apart by a glare, cut down to muscles and viscera for Crane to examine at his leisure.

And then, the ghost is gone.

Edward let’s out a long breath before deciding that enough is enough, and he will retire to his own bed. This would surely be a long night.


	2. Ghostly Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not exactly easy to fix up a haunted house.

Living in a haunted house is a lot less exciting than fiction presents it to be. Their first day at Crow Cottage is relatively uneventful. Mostly it is made up of Edward and Elisabeth dusting down the whole house and airing out rooms. It’s not an easy task, not only because the building is quite large and old, but because some old, grumpy haunt keeps slamming windows shut and pulling curtains back over them, as if the light itself was a personal insult. 

“First you put a tree right in the way of your front window, now you do this?” Edward mutters to himself after the heavy velvet curtains of his new bedroom are tied up once again. “What do you expect me to do? Light a candle? Which, by the way, is still inconvenient when there is an electrical system  _wired into the house._ ”

“All this new technology is a cardinal sin.” A voice drawls from behind Edward. 

“Oddly enough I do not believe you.” He responds sardonically. “There’s nothing wrong with innovation.”

“Certainly not. That does not in any way hinder the sinful nature of the electric bulb. Don’t touch those.” 

Edward removes his hands from the pile of books with a hiss, a brief burning feeling warming the skin and dissipating as soon as he lets go. He huffs, turning his head to look up at the ghost leaning over him. “I’m just moving them so I can sweep the floor. I’m not going to hurt your books, Doctor.”

The ghost of Jonathan Crane seems unconvinced but says no more of the topic. 

“And wasn’t electricity invented long before you? You’re not that old.”

“We still depended upon oil based lighting around here. The area didn’t settle on electrical wirings until the city started to leak through. The general store became a market. The apothecary a pharmacy. The sanitorium an asylum.” The ghost leans down to pick up the pile of books Edward was dealing with and whisk them away. 

“You worked at the asylum, didn’t you? Cash mentioned it yesterday.”

“Cash is an idiot and a coward. His words should be taken with a grain of salt.”

“He also said you hung yourself.”

“…” The room goes cold and quiet, and for a moment Edward wonders if the doctor is still around. Then he hears the quiet murmur of a response. “He doesn’t know anything.” 

When Edward looks he is alone in the room. The doctor is gone. 

* * *

No such interesting reports of ghost findings are presented to Edward later that afternoon when he calls his daughter down for lunch. He hopes this means the doctor kept his bargain and wasn’t speaking to her. 

Ellie spends more time talking than eating, although this is no new development on her part. She tells Edward of how she set up her room, where she put everything, and just how clean she got the windowsills to be. She then informs him of how many particular windows there are in the whole of the house—she counted!—and where all the holes are that were probably causing severe temperature loss. 

For now the weather was even tempered; warm and sunny, with relatively comfortable nights and only slightly chilly mornings, but the seasons would eventually change and the house would be at risk with the cold air. According to Ellie’s findings there’d have to me some major repairs if they didn’t want to freeze through the winter. 

“Well if we need to redo some of the walls we might as well paint them while we’re at it. What colours do you think would work in the kitchen?”

“We both know you’re gonna choose green anyways, Dad.” Ellie is a smart kid. “But Doctor Crane wouldn’t like it very much.” 

“What makes you say that?” Edward struggles to not let his anger bleed through his words. 

“He doesn’t want us touching the house.” Ellie states matter of factly. “I’m going to go count the doors.” Is her follow up as she hops down from her seat at the kitchen table. She leaves Edward behind with the remains of her lunch, hardly touched, and the rest of the clean up. 

He’s not very surprised. He finishes up his own meal, gathers the plates and starts to put things away. “I told you not to talk to her, Doctor.” Edward declares to the empty room.

“What am I to do if she talks to me?” Is the reply. To his credit, Edward only flinches a little, which apparently delights the ghost. “Sorry, did I frighten you?” Dr. Crane is suddenly there, at his side, grinning like a madman and not seeming the slightest bit apologetic. 

“Not enough to matter.” Is Edward’s terse response. He looks away from the ghost quite quickly, focusing on cleaning the dishes left over from lunch. 

Doctor Crane sighs. “I did not intend to speak to her after our conversation, but she asked for me.”

“You should not have answered.” Edward states. 

“And let her grow to resent me? I dare not see that healthy. You cannot dismiss what she sees in reality; eventually she will lose her sense of trust in her own self.”

“Don’t tell me you dabbled in child psychology on the side, doctor?” 

“No. But children are just people in a more malleable state. I see no reason to treat them as something less than a person. Tell me; would you want to be treated that way?” There’s nothing more annoying than a ghost with a logical point.

“…” Edward tries not to think about the implications of that statement, nor to dwell on the spirits of his past. He sighs in defeat. “You should limit your interaction with her.”

“Of course. I only answer when called upon, and only if I happen to be around.”

“I suppose that is fair…” Another sigh and then Edward is drying the dishes and putting them away. “Now about the house—”

“I heard about your plans. Do not paint any portion of my house. Or alter it in any way.”

This wasn’t going to be a fun negotiation. 

“Can we, at the least, repair the building? If you care so much about this house can we not maintain it?”

“I like my home as it is.”

“Cold? Filled with drafts, spider webs and breaks all over? Doctor, the floors creak and the wind rattles the foundation of the building, how can you enjoy that?”

“You forget that I am dead. Though even in life I would not have been bothered by it. I never wanted this home to age with grace, but to decay.” Doctor Crane fondly places his hand on the wall of the kitchen, smiling wistfully at the building itself. “I do not want it to change.”

“If it doesn’t change it will be unlivable.” Edward responds dully. 

“And that does not bother me in the slightest.” A wolfish grin from the ghost. 

Edward scoffs. “If you’re not going to cooperate I will do what I want and what I must without a care for you, this is ridiculous.” He makes is way to the kitchen entrance, determined to get away from the intimidating spirit, only to find a chilling touch on his arm.

“You will do no such thing.” Doctor Crane hisses, fingers digging into the sleeve of Edward’s shirt.

“I am the one who leased this house out, Doctor. You are dead. Hurry up and learn to compromise before I set fire to the damned thing!” 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.” 

The two trade ice cold glares with one another, eyes locked in a battle of intimidation that the ghost only wins because he’s dead, and therefore does not need to blink. 

“Do not test me, Nygma.” The Doctor growls. 

“No.” Edward snaps back, wrenching his arm from the spirit’s hold and reversing their positions, advancing on the Doctor with a foolish sort of bravery, finger pressing into a surprisingly solid chest and punctuating each word with a hard poke. “Do. Not. Test.  _Me.”_

The Doctor tries to grab at Edward’s wrist but suddenly finds his opponent a foot away from him, already huffing himself out of the room in a storm of fury.  

* * *

Swearing to ignore the demands of an ornery ghost is one thing, but getting actual workers to come to the cottage is a completely different story. 

A painter is called in from town. Ellie sits with him as he sets up his tarps and tapes, mixes his paint and prepares his brushes. She, ever the curious one, asks him endless questions about his occupation. After a while it can become taxing.

“You don’t look like a painter.” She says after ten minutes of inquiring about paint colours and their correlation with interior design.

“Well you don’t look like a police officer, but somehow you’re still interrogating me.” Mr. Chiara bites back, evidently getting annoyed at all the questoins. 

“Why does a painter wear a suit?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“You’re very rude do you know that?” 

Ellie pouts, hopping down from her seat. 

He lasts long enough to paint a single line on the wall before he’s fleeing down the front steps with paint sticking out of his hair and his car splattered green and purple. 

An exterminator is called in as well. Ellie doesn’t care about that, so he’s safe from her, but nothing could help him with the doctor. Mr. Flannegan only sticks around long enough to set up three rat traps before he flees from the house as if hell were at his heels. It might as well be. 

The carpenter doesn’t even bother to show up.  Edward gets a very clear assurance from one very disgruntled Miss Duffy who declares she’ll never set foot onto Crow Hill, let alone touch the cottage and neither would anyone else in the area. Even when Edward offered to pay three times her asking price she just told him to give up and get a new home. 

Edward sighs and collapses on the sitting room couch. “You’re a nuisance.” He announces, side-eying the portrait of Dr. Crane. 

“You could give up and move out.” An amused voice appears at his ear. Edward doesn’t even bother flinching. Obviously, this is the doctor’s preferred way of arrival.

“I’m not exactly a quitter, Dr. Crane.” He responds, craning his head to look at the ghost. “If we can’t get someone from town I’ll just call from elsewhere.”

“And I will drive  _them_  out of my house like the vermin they are.” The damn spirit is so smug, smirking down at Edward as if he’s already won.

“Then I’ll just have to do all the work by myself.” Edward sighs and closes his eyes. “Give up, doctor, we’re here to stay.”

An hour later when Edward gets up to make dinner he finds his suitcase scattered across the front lawn, soaked in mud and sea water. 

He sighs. 

“You’re a menace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike using OCs unless they're victims or absolutely necessary. So you can bet I hunted through the archive of Ridiculous Batman Villains and found someone to be a painter. And an exterminator and carpenter, but those two were a given.


End file.
